


Best Laid Plans (Often Go Awry)

by analyticamethyst



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: DONALD TIME BABEY, Donna is basically Daisy but like fanon pre-Louie's Eleven Daisy, Episode: s01e01 Woo-oo!, Episode: s01e23 The Shadow War!, Episode: s02e24 Moonvasion!, Gen, he's the best dad, they're gonna be alright but it's a long road getting there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25457503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/analyticamethyst/pseuds/analyticamethyst
Summary: Donald's life gets upended, again and again. He makes plans for the future, and then makes more plans when those plans go to ruin. He's used to it, and he'll do whatever it takes to keep his boys and his family safe and happy.
Relationships: Daisy Duck & Donald Duck & Goofy & Mickey Mouse & Minnie Mouse, Della Duck & Dewey Duck & Donald Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck, Della Duck & Donald Duck, Della Duck & Donald Duck & Scrooge McDuck, Dewey Duck & Donald Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck, Dewey Duck & Donald Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck & Webby Vanderquack, Donald Duck & Gladstone Gander, Donald Duck & Goofy, Donald Duck & Scrooge McDuck
Comments: 19
Kudos: 113





	Best Laid Plans (Often Go Awry)

**Author's Note:**

> title is uhhh a truncated quote from of mice and men apparently!! I read of mice and men two years ago and i guess the quote stuck around in my head enough for me to remember it when i was writing this, but i did have to google "best laid plans" quote to figure out where it came from, lol.

If you asked Donald Duck five years ago, two years ago, six months ago, even a mere three days ago, if he ever had plans to be a single father anytime soon, the answer would be a resounding _no_.

Not that Donald despised the idea of becoming a dad. In fact, it was actually the opposite! He had always had a special way with children - as long as they could understand his voice - and, while he never gave much thought to it, deep in his heart he cherished the idea of settling down one day. Him, a special someone (or someones) and a gaggle of kids he could spoil and love and give the world too.

And yes, he would take them on adventures - when they were old enough, if they wanted to, when it was safe for them.

That was the plan, after all.

But then Donald learned one of the hardest lessons of all, one he had been trying to teach Uncle Scrooge and Della for ages upon ages.

Adventuring is never safe.

And all of Donald’s carefully laid plans for the future - adventurer, musician, sailor, soldier, superhero, secret agent - shattered into a million tiny pieces.

\--

It wasn’t until Donald had wheeled the stroller of eggs into the houseboat and shut the door with a firm _click_ that the gravity of what had just happened - what he’d done - fully set in.

He lets go of the stroller, letting it roll gently to the side. He drops his overstuffed duffel bag, letting it fall clumsily, despite its precious cargo of everything he cared to take from Scrooge’s mansion. He lets his knees give out, sliding aimlessly to the floor. Donald buries his head in his hands, the world small and grey and spinning, and forces himself to breathe, deep and even.

~~When he panicked on adventures, Della would always be right there, forcing him to breathe. She’d knock his shoulder with her own, rough and overly friendly, but he saw the serious look in her eyes when he spiraled.~~

~~When he was lost and grieving and aimless, after his parents’ death, and he woke up screaming their names, Scrooge was always only a couple steps away, rubbing comforting circles into his back and murmuring softly to him in Scottish Gaelic. He was a warm, comforting presence, and he’d lean into Donald wordlessly as he quietly dealt with his own grief.~~

Donald shoves the thoughts from his brain as swiftly as they had come. That life is over now, he tells himself shakily. Della had killed it when she aligned the controls for takeoff on the Spear of Selene. Scrooge had signed its death warrant when he brought Della’s schematics to Gyro.

~~Donald had made the final blow when he screamed words that would haunt both him and Scrooge for a decade and yanked the eggs out of Scrooge’s life.~~

He groans and scrubs his hands against his head.

Donald has always been good at plans. Della was the reckless one of the family, always rushing ahead into danger. Scrooge appreciated a good plan, but at the end of the day, he always chose Della’s adventurousness over Donald’s caution. 

But here? Donald has no plan, and he had just upended his entire life.

Donald presses two fingers to each side of his beak and takes a deep breath, pulling his hands away as he exhales. He can do this.

He scrambles for a piece of paper and a pen, which are lying haphazardly around the houseboat. Just another reminder of how wholly unprepared he is to care for three curious, reckless babies - and all the work he will have to do to be prepared before they hatched.

Taking another deep breath, Donald puts pen to paper. The familiar exercise of penning out his thoughts into an achievable checklist calms and focuses him, and makes the impossibly daunting task ahead of him seem a little more achievable. 

  
  


The last one would undoubtedly be the hardest, but it’s one of the most important. He needs to be able to support these three kids, and make sure they had a good and happy life.

Donald sets the paper down and turns to the three eggs, tucked safely away in the stroller.

They are his life now, his utter pride and joy. Everything he does, everything he will do, he does for them.

Donald exhales, shaky and full of nerves, and feels something settle inside of him. 

Maybe he had never planned on being a parent so soon, and certainly not a single parent to Della’s triplets. 

But he would be okay.

He may not be their birth father, but Selene help him if he wouldn’t be the best damn uncle the multiverse had ever seen.

\--

Donald is a whirlwind the two weeks before the boys were born.

He has no luck nailing down a job, but maybe it’s better since he didn’t have to find a babysitter. He sells most of his old adventure gear that could be dangerous to children, bolstering his scarily low funds. He checks out every parenting book the library owns and then some. He painstakingly moves all the baby furniture and equipment (thank Jörmangandr Della bought all of this stuff so he doesn’t have to) and fixes up the room Della used to stay in into a nursery that surprisingly looks like he knows what he’s doing. He pulls multiple consecutive all-nighters and buys so much coffee he becomes a regular and befriends a waitress at the local diner. 

He also calls all of his friends, no small feat in its own.

It’s good to talk to them - Donald has never been much of a social butterfly, but he’s not an introvert either, and while he’d happily forgo all human contact if it means the kids would be better off he’s been living with his enthusiastic uncle for half his childhood and then some, and his bubbly sister had been around his entire life.

It’s the first time Donald’s been _alone_ , truly alone. He felt alone after his parents’ death, when the only life he’d ever known was upended and his new guardian Uncle Scrooge was quiet and withdrawn. But he was still _there_ , at the end of the day, and _Della_ was there, by his side as always.

Not anymore.

He has to break the news to all of his friends (except Donna, his old high school girlfriend, because he didn’t get there in time. She’s pissed at him, in that high-and-mighty way that she is, and she yells at him but he knows it’s partly an outlet for her grief, because she was Della’s friend too). They’re shocked, and understanding. Goofy and Donna have kids, and Mickey and José have nephews, and they offer all the support and advice they can. The rest of his friends are just as indispensable.

They keep asking him, gently, tentatively, if he’s okay. Donald always tells them he _is_. They always give this little hum, like they don’t quite believe him.

Some part of Donald, tucked away from the old grief of his parents, understands. But he knows what grief for a family member feels like, and this isn’t it.

He pours all his energy into making everything perfect for ~~his~~ Della’s kids, and buries his grief deep, deep down. 

But Goofy lost his wife and Mickey lost his brother (not dead, not dead, just out of their lives), and they _know_ what he’s dealing with. Donna is a single mother - of triplets, no less. 

Goofy tries to add him to a Beakbook support group chat for parents. Donald almost leaves, because the word _parent_ still makes him want to throw up.

He compromises, and mutes the chat. For now.

The boys’ hatching day comes, and his friends pour in from out of town. José and Panchito are on tour, but they ditch the venue they worked so hard to get, which makes Donald cry when he hears. Goofy drags his young son Max out of Spoonerville, Minnie closes her Bowtique, and Donna leaves the one-year-olds April, May, and June at home with a babysitter. Uno can’t be there physically but he talks to Donald through his phone, and Donald knows he’s watching through the security cameras Uncle Scrooge installed when he first got the houseboat to protect against theft.

It was only around seven months ago, when Della got schematics for a plane and Donald for a boat, but it feels like years. He’s a different person now.

He thinks about inviting Storkules, but decides against it. He has no way to contact the deity without alerting Scrooge or calling the media to him yet again (they’ve been hounding him ever since Della’s mysterious disappearance, but with the combined forces of famous actor Mickey and journalist Donna, and probably Beakley, quietly doing her part from McDuck Manor, they keep most of the reporters at bay.) He feels the overzealous demigod’s absence, though.

Gladstone comes too, which is a surprise. It’s been a while since he and Gladstone were close, spending their summers with Della and Fethry on Grandma’s farm. The one thing he and Scrooge always agree on is the resentment of Gladstone and his easy luck, the way he never has to work a day in his life. After two weeks of nothing but hard work (and without an actual job, no less) Donald expects Gladstone’s presence to sting more than usual. But he takes one look at the dark circles under Gladstone’s eyes and the haunted expression on his face, how he tries and fails to cover it with an easy smile and a carefree joke, and he crushes his cousin in a hug.

Gladstone stiffens, shocked, before his hands come to rest gently on Donald’s back. After the surprise wears off, he squeezes Donald right back, and for just a minute, everything feels right with the world.

Gladstone’s presence just makes Fethry’s absence hurt worse, but Donald adamantly refuses to go through Uncle Scrooge’s channels to contact him. Fethry left for the underwater lab two years ago and Donald hasn’t seen hide nor hair of him since.

(He wonders if Scrooge even had the decency to tell him his cousin is gone. Donald certainly didn’t.)

On a whim, Donald also invites one of Della’s old friends, Loopy McQuack. They were in flight school together, and Della was always dragging him to movie nights and sleepovers with Loopy, the cousins, and Gyro. He knows Della’s got more friends, but Loopy still sends him funny cat videos from time to time, so he texts her last minute, not fully intending for her to show up. She’s at his doorstep half an hour early (not that it means much, José and Panchito have been at his house since last night and Minnie and Mickey arrived three days ago). There’s an unmistakable McQuack original plane smoking at the landing site and gifts laden in her hands, and she crushes him in a hug. Donald hugs her back.

The boys hatch, and the small, ragtag group waits with baited breath. Donald, Goofy, and Minnie all have cameras poised and ready. Minnie and Mickey also take over Donald’s small kitchen for a day, and the latter bustles around with dishes made with food Donald is sure he never bought, doing his best to keep the bitter out of the bittersweet that they’re all feeling.

The first comes bright-eyed and curious. He’s methodical, the quickest of the boys on time, but he doesn’t burst out of the egg. He cracks away at it until Donald lifts him gently out and Minnie helps him wipe him dry with a red towel. He ooks up at Donald with huge, innocent eyes, seeing everything and understanding nothing, and Donald holds him close to his heart and vows to love and cherish him forever.

The second comes just after the first, not caring to wait, crashing out of his egg with force and enthusiasm. Donald’s friends laugh at his adventerousness. No one says “Just like Della” but it’s what they’re all thinking. He bursts out of his egg, leaving only scraps behind, and wiggles in Donald’s arm. He kisses the ultra-soft feathers on the kid’s tiny head and grins, his grief forgotten for one tiny second.

Donald shifts the ducklings ever so slightly in a more comfortable position as they wait for the final egg.

And wait.

And wait.

Donald starts panicking within a couple minutes, and his friends do their best to soothe and comfort him. But as the minutes tick by, they stiffen, their joyous smiles turning into worried frowns, their comforts turning tight and unsure. 

Gladstone had hovered near the back of the group at first, never quite comfortable with Donald’s friends. But he’d moved to stand at Donald’s side when Della’s first kid started hatching, and had thrown a comforting arm around his shoulders as the minutes ticked by. At first it was loose and casual, and Donald figured if asked later, Gladstone would deny he had comforted his cousin.

Now, as they waited and waited, Donald felt Gladstone’s arm tighten around his shoulders, for Gladstone’s benefit as much as his own.

Donna filled the silence, chattering endlessly about how long it had taken June to come out of her egg, slipping into random topics. Panchito was frowning at the clock on his phone, watching the minutes tick by worriedly.

“Forty-five minutes,” Donald says softly. It’s all he can manage. The rest of the explanation gets stuck in his throat, and not because of his unintelligible voice. His friends have always been able to decipher his meanings, scratchy voice or no.

José’s flipping through one of the parenting books Donald shoved at him when he went semi-verbal, Loopy hovering over his shoulder. He finds the passage that explains how long a duckling is supposed to remain in an egg for it to be healthy, and explains to the others. Donald hears his voice, soft but not soothing, but his words don’t process. Donald just leans on Gladstone and Minnie and holds the first two babies close to his chest and stares desperately at the final egg.

The minutes tick by. Panchito can’t stop checking the time. 

_I’ve come this far_ , Donald thinks desperately, pleadingly. _I can’t lose you now!! I can’t lose someone else!!_

He bites back tears, fooling no one.

At thirty-five minutes, Minnie quietly excuses herself and starts packing up some baby supplies - blankets, food, car seats - for the road. At thirty-seven minutes, Goofy tosses his car keys to Max and tells him to get the car all ready so they can rush off to the doctor’s. At forty-one minutes, Mickey goes to Donald’s landline and pulls up the number for the doctor’s office from his phonebook.

At forty-three minutes, the tiniest of cracks appears in the final egg, and everyone watches, on the edge of their seats.

Louie comes out at his own pace - slowly. He’s patient and comfortable as he crawls out of the egg. Donald passes one kid to Panchito and the other to Mickey and scoops the third into his arms, holding him close.

_I almost lost you…!_

José smiles at the duckling in Donald’s arms, his eyes softer than Donald has ever seen him. “Ah, he’s fine, Donal’,” his bandmate says softly, wiggling his fingers at Louie. “Just a little lazy is all.”

“Not lazy,” Donald corrects, although there’s not a speck of his famous temper behind it. He grins, both at his best friend and his nephew. “He just takes things at his own pace, I think.”

“Ah,” José nods in understanding, still beaming. José understands - he’s patient, he knows when to slow down and he’s not always _moving_. “He’ll be just fine,” José repeats, and Donald knows he means both in life and at this moment.

It’s in that moment, with all three boys close and his friends surrounding him, that he fully devotes himself to the life of a parent. He’s not just doing it out of an aimless sense of loyalty to Della after she’s gone, or out of an unexplainable sense of love for her kids who have no mom. He may be their uncle but these are his boys, through and through. They’re all he has, now, and he is theirs, always and forever.

“What are you gonna name them?” Goofy asks, breaking the silence. 

Donald shifts the youngest duckling in his arms and reaches for his back pocket. He pulls out a folded, crumpled note, and reads the words he’s already committed to memory from studying it so much.

In Della’s beautiful, loopy handwriting, the note reads: 

  
  


Donald bites back tears and tucks the note away. Della’s right - Jet, Turbo, and Rebel are distinctly _adventurer_ names. They’re perfect for another world, where Della can raise her three sons at Uncle Scrooge’s mansion and take them on adventures before they’re walking, where they’ll have traveled the globe and traversed other dimensions by the time they’re in elementary school, where Donald remained blissfully unaware of how much it _hurts_ when your sister is gone.

That world is not this one. Donald can’t give his boys adventurer names, because they won’t be adventurers.

Donald flips the note over and reads, in his own scrawling handwriting, the notes he took at three AM. He went on a call with Goofy and Minnie and researched name meanings and babyname.com until he had a concise conclusion.

It feels _wrong_ , abandoning Della’s last wish for her children. But Donald can’t do it. He can’t make them adventurers, not when the pain of Della’s absence is so raw and real.

“Huebert, Dewford, and Llewelyn,” Donald replies at last. His voice is scatchy and rough (more than usual) from tears and unuse. “Huey, Dewey, and Louie for short.”

Panchito grins at him, and they both pretend he’s not crying. “Sounds great, Donal’.”

His friends are passing Huey and Dewey around, cooing at the tiny ducklings and peppering affectionate kisses on their heads. Donald sees Gladstone quickly pass Huey to Loopy and turns to his cousin, offering up Louie.

Gladstone blinks at him, and he seems so unsure and out of his element that if it were any other situation, Donald would have laughed his head off. As it stands, he merely chuckles quietly and gently deposits Louie in Gladstone’s arms.

“Are you sure?” Gladstone asks, so quietly Donald almost thinks he imagined it. But the soft look on his cousin’s face when he holds Louie is something Donald will treasure forever and tuck close to his heart, so he nods, smiling knowingly, and moves on to give Minnie a hug. 

For a minute, Donald is content. His boys are _here_ , and _safe_ , and he is surrounded by the people he loves. 

And then his grief, for Della, for the man he thought Scrooge was, for the sister and the life he and his boys lost, hits him like a train. Donald rubs a hand against his face to hide the tears, and José envelops him in a hug.

Three weeks ago, if you told Donald where he is now he wouldn’t believe you. He would laugh and call it impossible.

But when he scoops up baby Huey and the duckling makes babbling noises and grabs at his beak, he chuckles and thinks, maybe we’re gonna make it. Maybe we’re gonna be okay.

\--

And they are okay. Donald learns quickly that, just like in an adventure, his carefully laid plans often go awry. Luckily, he’s painfully familiar with going with the flow and changing his plans on the spot.

His three boys are troublesome, a handful, but he loves them for it. He sees so much of Della in them, and Scrooge, and even Gladstone and Fethry. He sees the traits that would make them thrive on adventures and locks that knowledge away in a deep, deep corner of his brain.

He doesn’t talk to his friends much. He doesn’t have time. He loses contact with Donna, even though she lives just across town. There are no new messages in the Three Caballeros group chat. He sees posters for Mickey’s new movies more often than he sees Mickey himself.

He keeps in touch best with Goofy, only because the dog badgers him with phone calls and won’t leave him alone. Donald lets Goofy chatter on about everything and nothing over the phone as he pours over job listings and calculates how much money he’ll save by skipping meals. Goofy’s busy in Spoonerville, but he comes over as often as he can, and both he and Max are invaluable babysitters to what they’ve dubbed as HDL when they can come.

The waitress that Donald befriended during his first few weeks is named Danika, and she goes on to open her own diner that Donald brings his boys to whenever he can afford it. She’s not shy about slipping him a free meal whenever he needs it. Donald hates to accept it for himself, especially since he knows well how difficult it is to make a profit as a small business. But he’ll swallow his pride if it means the boys can fill their stomachs.

He won’t lie. It’s _hard_. His luck makes it near impossible for him to hold down a job, and he and the boys slip in and out of bankruptcy and poverty. It’s a difficult transition, after fifteen years of living with the richest duck in the world. But Donald is no stranger to difficulties and hard work. He skips meals, takes every job he can get his hands on, utilizes every penny-pinching trick Uncle Scrooge ever mentioned in passing. 

He also gets Gladstone to babysit. A lot. Maybe more than Donald wanted; definitely more than he expected.

They’re leaning against the railing on the side of the houseboat deck one night, after Huey, Dewey, and Louie have gone to bed. Donald’s been back from his grueling job for long enough to have decompressed, but not long enough that the residual fatigue that always seems to hover over him has rescinded. Tiredness makes his eyes flutter shut every now and then, before he jerks upright, and Gladstone is watching him in that way he’s been doing lately. It almost looks like concern, until he releases a comment about luck or something or other. Maybe it’s not meant to be biting, but it is.

Gladstone brought alcohol, far too fancy to be anything Donald’s ever drunk. He doesn’t have Gladstone’s expensive taste - which is probably a blessing, given his current situation.

Donald doesn’t think he’s drunk _anything_ since the boys were born. He can’t afford alcohol, and he’s not going to waste precious money on something that would only backfire on him, a man with a legendary temper when sober with three small and curious children in the house.

But Gladstone claims he strolled into a grocery store to buy snacks and trinkets for the boys (which he magically found a coupon for stuck to the side, of course) and a shopper had bought extra and gave a couple bottles to him. So now they’re quietly getting drunk on the deck of Donald’s houseboat, listening to the sounds of the marina and the city at night.

“Are you…” Gladstone twirls the bottle in his hand, watching the liquid swirl around inside idly. His posture is stiff and uncomfortable, which isn’t unheard of (at least for Donald), but still uncommon and a surprise to see. 

Donald leans a little heavier against the railing and turns his full attention away from the waves lapping gently below to his cousin.

“Are you okay?” Gladstone finished, quiet and uncomfortable, so far out of his element. He waves a hand at the houseboat, shabby and tiny, and at Donald’s weary, exhausted state. “This is… You work _so hard_ , D-Squared. And you get essentially nothing for it. It’s not fair.”

Donald gives Gladstone a small smile. It’s tight and uncomfortable. “I am. Really.” He snorts, wry and soft. “Finally realizing your luck gives you an unfair advantage?”

It’s not a lie. Not truly. Because Donald will happily skip meals and work long hours if it means the boys can eat and get birthday presents. Even though they should be pondering what birthday presents they’ll get, instead of if they’ll get any presents at all.

Donald sighs heavily and turns his back on the waves, leaning both his elbows on the railing. He directs his attention towards the interior part of the houseboat, where the lights are turned off to lower Donald’s electricity bill. “ _Life_ isn’t fair, Gladstone. You’re always gonna have it easier than I do.”

Gladstone purses his lips and says nothing. He stares hard at the water, dark and lit by reflections of streetlights, and Donald wonders idly what thoughts are bouncing around in his head.

They don’t speak again for the remainder of the night, while they down their bottles of too-expensive alcohol. When Gladstone leaves, Donald hugs him a little tighter than usual. He goes back into the houseboat and reads the job listings again, because even though he has a job he knows it’s tenuous and futile, and it’s always nice to have options lined up so the boys don’t have to go too long on money tighter than usual. He checks on the boys, and spots them clinging to the color-coded plushies Gladstone was laden with when he arrived. His beak quirks up in a small smile.

Gladstone is right. None of this is fair. It’s not fair that he can drop in and bring them a better gift than Donald can afford to. It’s not fair that Donald does everything and has nothing to show for it, while Gladstone does nothing and has everything to show for it. It’s not fair that the boys have to grow up without their mother, in a rickety old houseboat instead of an opulent mansion. 

But Donald will be damned if he won’t run himself ragged to be the best damn father uncle he can be. They’re all he has and he’s all they have, and they’ll make it work. They always have.

\--

The boys are ten years old when Donald’s carefully planned life once again flies off the rails.

He has a job interview, his first job since getting his online diploma, and the pay is notably higher than his usual grunt work jobs. He has an inkling of a bad feeling in his gut about it, but the hard truth is that Donald can’t afford to pass up this opportunity - literally. He doesn’t know if he’ll get another job with this kind of pay.

(In hindsight, that should have been a huge red flag. Donald’s luck is never good enough for that much money.)

But then the boys dupe their babysitter, _today_ of all days, and Donald is running ragged from all of his jobs and night school and lack of food, and he’s panicking so hard he can’t think straight. His résumé is shoved, unstapled, ungracefully into a folder as he runs through his list of babysitters in his head.

Max is in college across the country. Goofy is visiting Mickey at his studio. Minnie has her Bowtique, still running strong. Danika is two states over, picking up her nephew for the summer. Jade, his boys’ friend Skye’s older sister, is on a college tour. He has no clue where Gladstone is. He hasn’t talked to José, Panchito, or Donna in years. 

_Gladstone, if you’re out there_ , Donald groans internally as he rushes his kids to the car, _this would be a good time to have a lucky reunion._

But Gladstone doesn’t come, and that leaves only one option. An option that Donald resolutely told himself he’d never do.

But here he is, plugging in the coordinates to McDuck Manor into his car’s GPS.

He has his standoff with Scrooge, and then he _leaves_. He leaves his precious children (and he doesn’t know when he started thinking of them as _his_ and not _Della’s_ ) in Scrooge’s hands, knowing full well last time he left something precious in Scrooge’s hands he got her killed. But even though every inch of his panic-induced nerves are screaming at him to turn the car around, grab his boys, and never come back, something in his gut tells him he can trust Scrooge.

Besides. He _really_ needs this job.

Maybe an afternoon with Scrooge will teach the boys how scary and dangerous adventuring is, anyway.

Ack, who is Donald kidding. They’ll be badgering him for an adventure with dear ol’ Uncle Scrooge the moment he steps foot in the door.

He botches the interview, but he gets the job anyway, which is when alarm bells start going off in Donald’s head. Then his employer announces himself, and it’s _Flintheart Glomgold_ , Scrooge’s old nemesis.

But he’s not Scrooge’s nephew anymore, so he goes on the Atlantis trip. One last taste of adventure, before he retires with the boys for good.

Of course it doesn’t work out. Why would it? Who gets stuck with all the bad luck, no one but Donald Duck.

Scrooge is there, and _the boys_ are there, and they’re stuck in Atlantis, which is full of death traps. But they get out, and he takes Scrooge’s gold-plated submarine back to Duckburg. He doesn’t talk to Scrooge on the ride back, but it’s an improvement from their argument a couple days ago. He _does_ meet Launchpad, who instantly claims him as a friend, and Webby, who instantly claims him as a dad. And he sees how well the boys get along with Launchpad and Webby, and even Scrooge, and how well they take to adventure. And he knows no one in their right mind would think to deny them their family and their happiness.

He’s not planning to move in, and the air between him and Scrooge is still frosty, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. 

He doensn’t mind so much, in the end. It makes the boys happy.

Any lingering discomfort Donald has is unquestionably second to that.

\--

Donald’s plans go _right_ for once, but it’s still unmistakably wrong.

He had always planned to move out of the mansion as soon as he finished repairing the houseboat. He stubbornly refused to move into the mansion itself, despite living in Scrooge’s pool. His grief for his lost sister and his fury at Scrooge and the whole situation has cooled over time, softened by ten years of his amazing boys and his recent time with Scrooge, however hostile and untrusting he may be. But when the boys run to his houseboat, crying and upset, it’s still a shock.

They go back to the marina, and Donald tries his best to make it work, as always. He plans on taking the boys where they’ve always wanted to go - Cape Suzette. It’s what got them into this mess in the first place.

He can’t make his boys happy, and that _hurts_. The pain of losing Della, which he’s gotten used to over the decade, feels inconsequential compared to this.

While the boys stew in their grief, and Launchpad and Webby plot and scheme, Donald sits and thinks.

He’s had ten years to deal with the grief of losing Della, and losing Scrooge alongside her. It’s old news to him. But for those ten years he was resolutely, undoubtedly sure he was _right_ , that Scrooge was to blame, that staying away would keep them safe.

He’s not so sure anymore.

It’s been six months and his boys are thriving. They love Scrooge, they love Mrs. Beakley and Duckworth and Launchpad, they love Webby like the sister she is. They love Lena, even though she was always more of Webby’s friend than theirs. They have friends in Duckburg from before the Scrooge Era too - friends in Skye and Jade and Danika and Jason. 

And Scrooge loves them right back.

It’s a realization that hits Donald like a truck, even though it’s incredibly obvious to anyone else.

They love Scrooge and Scrooge loves them, and each others’ presence has both done wonders.

Family fights. It’s what they do. Donald knows this better than anyone, growing up with a sister like Della and a ~~father~~ uncle like Scrooge. For goodness’ sakes, he’s been fighting with Scrooge for ten years!

When Magica’s shadow army descends upon Duckburg, Donald has made up his mind. They are a family of warriors of adventurers, and they will defeat Magica de Spell and save Uncle Scrooge. Family helps family. Family loves family.

The kids make up with Uncle Scrooge before Magica is defeated, which is convenient since the houseboat is reduced to next to nothing. Donald isn’t deterred - he’s worked with worse odds and conditions before - but this time around, he’s not unhappy with his family living in the manor. This time, he doesn’t plan to leave.

\--

Donald’s plans don’t necessarily turn on their head this last time, but his world certainly does.

For the last decade, there has been one truth that has shaped his life, even after he made up with Scrooge. Della is gone. Della is gone. Della is gone.

But now she’s back… and Donald doesn’t get to see it.

He’s stuck on the moon, except he’s not really stuck, because he’s Donald Duck and he _is_ the storm and he’s an adventurer and a warrior. He’s been in sticky situations and hostile prisons before, and Donald rolls with the punches and attacks the odds stacked against him without a second thought.

Lunaris plans to do unspeakable things to his planet and his _family_ , and Donald will die before he lets that madman at his home and the people he loves. And he nearly _does_ die, and for the longest time he thinks Penumbra, his only ally, might have. He’s a little disheartened that his family never knew he was on the moon and stranded twice consecutively, but Donald’s no stranger to shoving down his selfish feelings to help his family. What really matters is that _Della_ is back. His sister. 

“I thought I lost you,” he whispers, his voice thick with tears as he crushes her in a hug as soon as they’re safe in McDuck Manor.

Della hugs him back just as tight. “I missed you too,” she replies, and he can feel something wet on his shirt when she buries her face in his shoulder.

At the beginning, Donald is a little nervous that with Della there, he’ll be shoved to the side. He may have raised Huey, Dewey, and Louie, but genetically he’s only their uncle. He commiserates with Launchpad, who’s scared with his niece back, Scrooge won’t have need of his pilot services. But their family proves them wrong, and Donald basks in the joy of having his sister back and spending every day with his four kids. 

They’re Della’s kids too, and Scrooge’s, and Beakley’s, all four of them. Duckworth is distant and Launchpad is more of a big brother figure, but they’re undoubtedly part of the family too. Lena and Violet may be Sabrewings, and Boyd is a Gearloose, but they’re still Donald’s kids too. They’re family, and so are their parents.

Their family grows and grows, and it’s completely unconventional but it’s theirs and it’s perfect.

\--

If you told Donald eleven years ago he’d be a single father to Della’s kids for a decade, he wouldn’t believe you.

If you told Donald five years ago he’d move his boys back into Scrooge’s mansion and adopt another kid in Webby, he wouldn’t believe you.

If you told Donald six months ago his sister would return, he wouldn’t believe you.

But despite the twists and turns of life, Donald is happy. His family is happy, and he is happy, not in spite of it, but because of it.

**Author's Note:**

> why do all of my fics end up character study style oh my god i swear this isn’t intentional sdfghgfds it’s just fun to write
> 
> okay i have like 15 open story wips and a notes doc full of ideas but i got the idea for this this morning and just worked on it on and off all day lol. i’ve been in a rut of low motivation and inspiration lately so it felt really nice to write again!!
> 
> if Gladstone seems ooc in this idk it was the alcohol and also he’s a huge lonely softie at heart don’t @ me. i’m doing a ducktales rewatch with my brother and we got to House of the Lucky Gander recently and there’s this throwaway gag at the end where Gladstone almost realizes he’s been coasting on his luck and he’s lonely, but then he gets a yacht and all development is gone. i’ve... been thinking a lot about that haha. expect a post about it later anyways.
> 
> Donna is an amalgation of Donald’s first love interest, from a short in the 1930s i think, named Donna Duck, and the fanon version of Daisy Duck from before her premiere. I wasn’t gonna include her at first, but it felt wrong to have the Mickey Squad without Daisy. But obviously Daisy couldn’t be there, because she and Donald don’t meet until Louie’s Eleven, which is ten years in the future. so, here’s Donna! You may have noticed in my headcanon she’s April, May, and June’s mother, making her Daisy’s sister. so that’ll be a fun reunion when Donald meets Daisy’s family!
> 
> I wanted to include a scene where Ty and Indy Sabrewing, Violet and Lena’s parents, are included. They were the babysitters that Donna alluded to in the beginning, since I hc April, May, and June live near Violet and Lena, and Violet knew them growing up. They were also part of that parent gc Goofy set Donald up with. That was going to come back into the story but it didn’t fit.
> 
> am kinda projecting with that scene where donald goes semiverbal so uhh Donald's autistic now cause i said so lmao
> 
> anyway hope you like it! thanks for reading! if you liked this, check out my other writing under the #my fanfic or #wavey writes tags at my tumblr analyticamethyst, my ao3 here, or at my wattpad PurpleDragon2003 (I’m not really active there though). I also might open writing commissions soon, so if you like my writing and you’re in a position to commission me please keep an eye out for that! Thank you I love you so much <3 <3


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